


Little Daily Miracles

by icameheretowinry



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 is not in love MC, 707 still works for the agency, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, MC is a ray of sunshine, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Platonic Relationships, References to Depression, V is dead, and i have zero issue with that, basically i pulled details i liked from a few different routes, but i will put warnings in the notes before a chapter too, figured i should probably add those in lmao, he is an angry boi with a festival of issues, i upped the rating based on what i have planned for later chapters, jaehee runs her coffee shop, jumin is head of the rfa, saeran is based on the saeran we meet at the end of 707's secret endings, she's a writer based on myself and 707's good ending MC, sorry v but i had to, there's a few other things i want to clear up, they are just friends, this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written, this story is not quite an au but it's not canon either, with a healthy scoop of ray on top, yoosung works for jumin, zen and jaehee are in a relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icameheretowinry/pseuds/icameheretowinry
Summary: "Sometimes people become roses. You love them, but it hurts to hold on." -- They never said the road to recovery would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC takes Saeran out to get some fresh air, and they stumble upon a flower shop. Things get interesting when MC finds a bouquet of blue roses.

He never struck me as one who would possess a liking for flowers. Yet, when I turned to check his progress behind me (always three steps behind and a little to the left), he’d wandered here. The flower shop saddled the corner of two nameless streets; bursting at the seams with flora and capped with a dirty white awning. 

He never lead, only followed, so I pushed the rusting metal door open first. A bell perched above the entrance echoed like the faint twinkle of a hallow star. Three steps inside, and it rang again. The leaves reaching beyond the confines of their pots and vases rustled as I ventured deeper inside. Suddenly, something notably unnatural drew all of my attention, half of which was usually focused backwards on my silent follower. 

“Look!” I exclaimed, quickly striding forward, “It’s a blue rose!” 

I turned to find that, unsurprisingly, Saeran had caught up to his usual position, likely less out of concern for my excitement than sheer force of habit. He frowned, his artificially teal gaze outlining the flower cradled in my fingertips. He shifted from foot to foot, a subtle indication of his discomfort in the heady atmosphere around us. Various forms of plant life nearly blocked the windows in this corner, and cast dappled shadows on the cracked concrete floor. It really was a jungle of a room. 

'The perfect place for the beginning of a story...'

The thought passed like a lazy cloud behind my eyes.

“They’re my favorite,” I offered, gently tilting the flower into a rare beam of sunlight. 

Saeran said nothing, his scowl harsh enough to wilt the garden around him. 

“I remember my mom used to buy them for me all the time when I was little,” I continued, if a little desperately, “Although, I don’t see them as much —” 

“It’s not real,” he stated flatly, the pace of his rocking growing faster. 

I released my grip on the rose, the cheap dye leaving a bruise-like stain on my fingers. It nodded in its vase a few times before growing still. 

“Not this one,” I countered, giving his gaze my full attention, “I’m talking about the real thing. I remember them.”

“They’re grown artificially. They’re not real. They’re not even supposed to exist.” 

His voice was high and clipped. 

I stilled, unsure if I was more shocked by his knowledge of flowers, or those being the most words he’d ever directed towards anything I said, or towards anyone for that matter. After that first week, a curious silence invaded his throat. He kept up formalities in the messenger, but for the most part, he stayed firmly locked away in his own head. 

“Well, yes,” I replied slowly, now completely on unfamiliar territory, “But they’re still beautiful, don’t you think?”

I glanced at the cluster of comically cobalt-colored roses, “I’m glad they exist. As few and far between as they are.” 

I met Saeran’s gaze, only to catch the tail-end of some reaction. Confusion? Surprise? Astonishment? Whatever it was, it was quickly suffocated by his trademark frown. He shifted himself back towards the door, sealing up the cracks in his facade as they formed. 

With no immediate answer in sight, I took what little progress I could get and headed towards the flower shop’s door. He stiffened as I brushed past him, perhaps paranoid I’d again catch him in the act of feeling something other than disgust. When I didn’t hear his shuffling steps behind me, I paused and turned around. 

Saeran remained where I’d left him, only now, staring down the blue roses with enough intensity to incinerate them. The scowl remained, albeit a bit softer than before, as if he’d grown tired of holding it. His shock of red hair seemed to bristle like a live flame. Somewhere along the line he’d embraced the color, letting all of its intensity radiate from him like a kind of poisonous atmosphere. 

“Saeran?” 

I quickly closed the distance between us. The only acknowledgement of my return on his part was shifting slightly away. His breath seemed trapped in his chest, coming out in ragged shudders when they managed to escape. His shoulders trembled. Something was broiling just beneath the surface, like a star threatening to go supernova. 

“Do you even know what they mean?” he asked, each word stained with sullenness. 

This time, I was the one stunned into silence. I half expected the dye to start weeping from the petals. 

“Unattainableness. Complexity unworthy of understanding. A door that should not be opened.” 

Was this a warning? 

I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder. Something, anything, to comfort him, but I knew better. I was squinting through the keyhole of an ill-used door, and for now, that was going to have to be enough. 

“You’re not wrong,” I told him in a tone of voice held at arm’s length from my thoughts, “But if you’re going to test me, you’re going to have to come up with a more difficult question.” 

Saeran went completely still as the air in the flower shop seemed to fill with static. 

“Achieving the impossible. New beginnings. Even love at first sight,” I explained, “Those are part of its meaning too.”

The scowl slowly crumpled from his features in recognition of his defeat. Still trembling, Saeran kept his eyes firmly on the flowers in front of him. I waded into the zone of chaos between the two. 

“That’s why I love them,” I continued, “They don’t always mean something beautiful, but there’s always a bit of hope you can spin to it. For better or for worse, the blue rose is my favorite flower.” 

I offered him a smile before I started back towards the door, “We should start heading back. Seven’ll be worried!” 

Suddenly, I heard the urgent scrape of shoes against cement and then, of all possible things, felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to find Saeran, his teal eyes ablaze with the expression I couldn’t quite pin down. This time, he let it stay. I added the moment to my list of little daily miracles. The next arrived soon after, so softly I nearly missed it. 

“It’s my favorite too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I always thought it would be interesting if MC and the Saeran we meet during 707's secret endings fell for each other as he recovered. This is going to be on the slower side because literally the only progress we got here is that Saeran finally spoke to MC in full sentences, and she learned one (1) fact about him. This fic is very self-indulgent, but I'm hoping to make the cliches I stumble into feel real, a little cheesy, but still on the realer side. This MC literally doesn't know about how deeply he's tied himself to the meaning of the blue rose. She's like whelp I learned a Thing, and meanwhile Saeran is on the verge of another breakdown (but a good one?). Anyway I hope you enjoyed, and if you have any questions or comments, let me know! (I also haven't written in a hot second so please excuse any issues as I get my writing legs back.) More chapters coming soon! ^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC brings Saeran back home. Curious about his drastic change in behavior, Saeyoung pulls MC into the kitchen for an explanation.

“What on earth did you do to him???”

Saeyoung’s whisper echoed loudly in the tunnel of his cupped hand. I felt the muscles in my shoulders screw themselves tight in response. Subtly was never really his strong suit. 

“Nothing,” I replied, my own whisper verging on a hiss. 

Yet, I couldn’t really blame him for asking. Something in the aftermath of our first conversation slacked Saeran’s usual scowl and pulled the supernova in his eyes away from the surface. He’d followed me back to the house in silence, quietly collapsing under his own gravity. Those teal eyes held open by a personally afflictive force. As soon as he’d retreated to his room, Saeyoung pulled me into the kitchen, which thankfully, was less harsh on the eyes than the rest of the house. Between nervous gulps of Ph. D Pepper, he demanded to know the details. 

“What happened?!”

I shrugged in a feeble attempt to contain my own excitement, “We just talked for a little bit—“

“He talked to you?!” Saeyoung interjected, stopping the sentence in my throat. 

“We were at a flower shop,” I explained, “And we talked about blue roses…”

Saeyoung’s golden eyes fixed to something in the distance behind me. I could almost hear the gentle click of the gears grinding in his head. 

“Blue roses… Blue roses…”

He tested the feeling of the words in his mouth, as if the sound alone could extract an answer. 

“As it turns out, he knows a thing or two about flowers… and their meanings,” I concluded. 

Saeyoung said nothing, passing his half-empty bottle of soda from hand to hand.

“Seven?” 

“Sorry,” he said, sending shivers through his fiery hair as he shook himself back into the present, “I was just thinking…” 

“Does any of this sound familiar to you?” I asked, “It would be good to know—“

— A way in. Although, neither of us dared let the truth run wild in the tense air between us. Saeyoung deposited his soda on the nearby counter and folded his arms. The trademark headphones perched on his shoulders shifted with the movement, almost like an eyebrow raised up in thought. 

“A little,” he admitted. 

I sunk down to rest my elbows on the expanse of the kitchen island. The frigid stone sent roots of numbness up my arms. 

“How so?” 

“Well, we — he… didn’t get out much,” Saeyoung began, side-stepping brambles of memory, “I remember bringing him a book about it… and I saw pictures of him later… in the church’s garden…” 

I watched as with mirror-like precision to his brother, Saeyoung began to retreat towards the center of his own galaxy. And besides, he’d told me as much as he could muster already.

‘So, it did come from before…’

Some part of me felt oddly thankful, that in the chaos of their pasts, there may have just been a few moments of peace. I could almost picture it; high stone walls collapsing into gentle arches, someone whispering a hymn in the distance, and a garden, like an inset opal, at its center. Maybe Saeran was with V, both of their eyes clearer than I’d ever seen them. Maybe they were fixed to a passing butterfly. Maybe he was ensnared in laughter. Every possibility made me smile. Somewhere in Saeran’s past, a fistful of flowers gave way to a thousand words. 

“He was always like that,” said Saeyoung suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. 

The local atmosphere grew heavy with a foreign kind of poison that threatened to crumple my heart. I could barely stand the distance that invaded his voice. 

“So gentle. So kind.”

Knowing those two was like standing on the shore of the darkest lake, and staining to see an island on the hazy horizon. And at the moment, I couldn't tell which one of them it was. The further I waded in to reach it, the more the inky depths sapped the warmth from my skin. 

“I honestly never imagined him learning to hack,” said Saeyoung, “He liked stories, and beautiful things. The more I think about it, flowers make perfect sense for him.” 

He leaned against the expanse of smooth plastic cabinets behind him, “It’s funny, how different we were. The same set of genes created a scientist and a romantic…”

“That’s is oddly serious of you, Seven,” I remarked with a smirk. 

Anything to check the rain flooding our heads. Saeyoung must’ve noticed. He laughed. 

“Even a god isn’t above mistakes!” he declared, pointing a finger skyward.

“Since when do you think you know anything?!” 

We turned to find Saeran standing in the kitchen doorway, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists by his sides. I watched the question sink into Saeyoung like a rusty knife; dull and dangerous. Saeran’s eyes blazed with blue fire as he strode into the kitchen. 

“What are you telling her?!" he demanded, "How well you think you knew me?! How things were after you decided it was best for the both of us if you left?!

His ill-used voice clawed at the air around us. I froze, any words dying in my throat. 

“What do you think you know?!”

Saeran latched onto his brother’s wrist in a vice grip, staining his fair skin red from the contact. Saeyoung rushed inward, and gasped for words. 

“Just about the books I used to bring you… and the flowers at the church—“

“How sweet of you to focus on the good old days,” Saeran hissed, “I think you’re missing a few important details.” 

A fool couldn’t miss the poison in his words. Right now, that lake was at the mercy of a hurricane.

“Saeran… I…” mumbled Saeyoung, unable to meet his brother’s eyes, “She… she was curious, and I…”

“I don’t care!!” he spat, “You weren’t there! How dare you tell her anything! Fuck you!!” 

“STOP IT!!” 

The twins froze; Saeran’s hands fisted in his brother’s shirt, and Saeyoung grasping at relief. The intensity of my voice surprised even myself. 

“Enough!! I can’t stand it!!” 

Saeran’s expression screwed itself into a scowl, but slowly, he untangled himself from his brother’s shirt. Without a word, he shuffled stiffly back towards his room. 

“Thank you,” said Saeyoung with a ragged sigh. 

His gaze remained fixed to the floor. 

“I’ll go talk to him,” I offered. 

Saeyoung said nothing. His fatigue hung in the air like a disease. It was going to have to be enough of a response for me. With that, I left the kitchen and walked back across the house. The door to Saeran’s bedroom felt like nothing short of a gate to a fortress. 

“Saeran?” 

Nothing. I waited for awhile, but then I remembered a girl could blaze too. 

“I’m coming in.” 

The universe on the other side of the door was as empty as expected; bare walls, closed curtains, and an unkept bed. Saeran sat on the edge of it all. 

“Hey.”

Silence. I carried on. 

“I liked today,” I began, “I liked talking to you.’ 

I saw his shoulders stiffen under the weight. His lower lip began to tremble. 

“I’m not here to make any assumptions, but Seven told me you’re kind... And I believe it.” 

I turned my gaze to the skylight above his bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to buy you a flower. Next time, I will.” 

Saeran, again, was quiet. He was nothing but a poppy left to bloom on a battlefield. So, I left, wading between the dull aftermath of a sinkhole and an unpredictable storm. It was a mired kind of chaos. 

Later, all caught up in my evening, the message surprised me; a shock in the continuous drone of the chatrooms. 

— What kind of flower? 

There I was, shaking hands with his past. Is that allowed? I thought I could still picture the smiling boy. Is that ok? 

So, I told him it was a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write! I love playing around with metaphors, but I hope it didn't get too convoluted. ^^;;; As I've planned this story out, I ended up looking into the language of flowers, and thought that would be a fun little theme to use throughout the story. Fun fact: Poppies are traditionally a symbol of remembrance for soldiers that have died during battle. (It's also veteran's day, so that's a neat coincidence.) Still, I thought it was a suitable nod to the innocent and kind part of Saeran he's convinced he's left in his past. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and as always, if you have any questions/comments/critiques, please let me know! ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC goes out to buy Saeran a flower, and visits Jaehee along the way.

Nothing about the flower shop seemed the same during my second visit. Maybe it was the clearness of the afternoon, or maybe it was because I was alone. The frayed white awning still fluttered weakly in the breeze. The bell still twinkled above the door. Flowers still nodded under the weight of their own blossoms. Yet, something in the atmosphere was missing, like a morning after the early fog burns away. The present was a little too close for my liking. 

The tilted feeling chased me into the far corner of the shop where Saeran and I’d spoken of blue roses. I scanned the weeping shelves, but they were gone. In their place lingered a message of a different kind. I selected the smallest sprig, carefully untangling the tight clusters of blossoms from their neighbors. The center of each five-pointed bud was stained the shade of pink that clings to the edges of clouds at sunset. The petals whispered against my cheeks as I inhaled and let their scent gently cloud my head. For a second, that intangible haze returned, and I hated to leave it behind. 

The world outside of that artificial garden seemed different too, as if the streets had rearranged themselves in my absence. Only a few blocks away, Jaehee’s coffee shop buzzed with activity. The glass door, stained with impatient fingerprints, never remained closed for long. After practically pushing my way inside and clawing my way up to the counter, I finally spotted C&R’s former chief assistant hard at work. As they fought their way through the last wave of the lunch rush, half of Jaehee’s exchanges with her business parter, Hae, sounded like another language altogether. When the crowd ebbed away, I spoke up. 

“Looks like I don’t have to ask how business is going!” 

Jaehee’s head shot up at the prospect of another customer, only for me to watch relief flood her features. 

“Oh! It’s you!” she exclaimed as she rounded the counter, her fingers tangled up in a striped dish towel.

I smiled, “It’s been awhile! Just thought I would stop by.” 

She returned the expression, surprise still tugging at the edges. 

“I’m glad you did!” replied Jaehee, “But isn’t it really far out of your way?”

“Well, yes,” I admitted, my gaze tilting towards the coffee shop’s dark wooden floor, “But I find myself coming out here more and more these days…”

Yet, my vague response did little to deflate her grin. 

“Hae?” 

The tall brunette on the other side of the counter turned her head towards us, somehow still managing to chip away at the mountain of dishes in the sink before her. 

“Will you be able to handle things out here for a little while?” 

She raised a black soapy glove out of the sink to give us a thumbs up. Satisfied, Jaehee turned and started back towards a set of swinging doors set into the wall behind the cash register. 

“It’ll be easier to talk back here,” she explained, “VIP access! A once in a lifetime opportunity!” 

I laughed and followed close behind. Jaehee gestured to a low wooden table with matching stools tucked in the corner of the storeroom. 

“Sorry, it’s not very nice, but we’ll actually be able to hear ourselves think.”

I agreed, and sank without protest onto one of the stools. Jaehee collapsed with a sigh onto her own. 

“So,” she began after straightening herself and chasing her long hair into a bun, “How are things with you?” 

I shook my head, for all the time we spent in the messenger, and all the things we shared, usually the most important developments of our lives seemed to go undiscussed. 

“I finally found myself a proper job,” I said, shifting the bag carrying the flowers at my feet. 

“That’s exciting!” 

I laughed. Truthfully, nothing had quite measured up to my first few weeks in the RFA. Those days wrung the denial from my thoughts that my life had been nothing but calm in comparison, even achingly boring at times. It was something I’d never experienced before; laying in bed seconds after waking, watching the early sunlight flit nervously between the curtains, and feeling that odd kind of melancholy settle on my skin with the realization that the day to follow would be nothing more than ordinary. Some days I was able to fill in the gaps of my desire, most days, I could not. 

“As exciting as copyediting can be,” I said, turning myself right-side out, “If anything, it at least pays the rent while I get my book together—“

“You’re writing a book?” Jaehee asked, her maroon eyes drawn wide, “About what?” 

“Well… it’s…” I found myself tangling my fingers in my hair and shifting my eyes to take in every detail of the bare expanse of wall behind my friend. 

“Ah… I get it,” she said suddenly, folding her arms across her chest. 

“You… You do?”

“You artistic types never want to share what you’re working on,” she explained as if she were an expert on the habits of nervous writers. 

‘Knowing Jaehee,’ I thought, ‘It wouldn’t surprise me at all…’

“Not necessarily—“

She cut off the rest of my response with a raised hand, “It’s perfectly fine! Honestly! It’s part of the charm, having a secret or two?”

“I guess so,” I replied with a shrug, “Except Zen. He’s always ready to offer all kinds of advice on how to attain perfection.” 

Of all possible reactions, Jaehee giggled. Then, I noticed her… blushing. I’d seen her rant, ramble, and partake in every shade of fangirling, but this… this almost didn’t compute. She seemed… smitten? 

“Jaehee…?”

“We started dating!” she squealed. 

I did my best to reel in the surprise, quickly twisting my gape into a smile. 

“That’s great!” my response echoing tone-deaf in my ears, “For how long?” 

“Two months” she replied, hardly able to stay in her seat, “We decided we didn’t want to tell everyone right away because once one member of the RFA knows something, it’s safe to assume the rest will too. Anyway—“ 

It hadn’t always been that way. I remembered most conversations led to a wall, an apology, and that was that. Everything changed after V… or after Saeran. Every member seemed to title that chapter a little differently. I still wasn’t quite sure which I would fix to mine. Somewhere above the surface of my thoughts, Jaehee continued her Zen-fueled monologue, as if possessed by the man himself. Matchless, forever alone Jaehee, head over heels in love. I relinquished our old camaraderie with a renewed smile. 

“— and that’s how he got the role of Sebastian!” she finished, either out of breath or words. 

I shook myself back into the present, “Wait, which play is this now?” 

“Twelfth Night,” explained Jaehee in a tone that indicated she was repeating herself, “You know, Shakespeare?” 

“Of course!” I replied, mentally filing the play under things to look up once I got home. 

Seemingly satisfied, Jaehee settled back on her stool as before, “Hyun got a couple extra tickets, actually! Would you come to opening night? You can bring anyone you like!” 

With metaphorical tumbleweeds blowing through my schedule, it was impossible to say no. 

“I’ll come,” I said. 

“Excellent!” 

Jaehee rose from her stool and smoothed the invisible wrinkles from her pinstriped apron. 

“I should probably get back to work…”

I nodded and stood up, knocking over the bag containing Saeran’s flowers in the process. 

“Oh, those are beautiful!” she exclaimed. 

Saying nothing, I quickly gathered up the spilled blossoms. Something about her lingering gaze on the flowers felt wrong. It didn’t make sense, but it was the same feeling I got when someone tried to read my words behind my back. 

“Are you alright?” Jaehee asked, her features lined with worry. 

“I just didn’t want them to get ruined…”

“Understandable,” she answered, “How’s Saeran these days?” 

“That’s an awfully drastic subject change, Jaehee,” I remarked. 

“Just something I thought of.”

“Well,” I began, “He’s doing well, I think? He’s talking. We spoke about flowers a bit and—“ 

I could see the equation come together behind her eyes. 

“Say hello to them for me, will you?” she smiled. 

“Sure…” 

I left Jaehee’s coffee shop with the notion that love changes a person must be true. 

I rapped softly on the door to Saeran’s room. Thankfully, the gravity surrounding him seemed a little lighter. He opened it, and I watched that unknowable expression infect his features. His frighteningly red t-shirt and yellow sweatpants (clearly courtesy of Seven, I assumed) wrinkled around his thin frame. I reached into the bag and withdrew those sunset-stained blossoms. 

“They’re azaleas,” I explained. 

He looked at the flowers, looked at me, and looked back to them. Then, he reached out, and plucked the sprig quickly from my grasp, as if the contact would burn him. Even though his breaths seemed trapped in the cage of his chest, I waited. 

“Alright,” whispered Saeran, “Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote this chapter in the back of a speeding car on my way to California. It was really fun though! I'm still working on how to write dialogue (14 year old me just died), so please forgive me. ;;;; I don't know how many people ship it, but I personally love Jaehee x Zen. It's wholesome, so let me be. Also, fun fact: azaleas translate to, "take care of yourself for me." I couldn't think of anything more appropriate. 
> 
> And as always, if you have any comments or suggestions, please let me know!


End file.
